


Drugged

by orphan_account, TobyJoeArmstrong



Category: Green Day
Genre: Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Drinking, Drug Use, Forced Drug Use, Gen, Happy Ending, Parties, Platonic Cuddling, tre being a lil bitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 20:20:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9089248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TobyJoeArmstrong/pseuds/TobyJoeArmstrong
Summary: In which Billie gets drugged at a party.((written with TobyJoeArmstrong))((teen for cursing + drug use))





	

**Author's Note:**

> Had the pleasure of collabing with TobyJoeArmstrong (aka Dookiebones) for this one. All mistakes are our own and, as always, we don't own Green Day or anyone in the fic (except for that one oc girl that says like 6 words that represents anyone that's ever looked at Mike ever)

__

“Don’t be a pussy, Dirnt” was probably the last thing Mike heard before Billie took off into the mansion, black jacket flowing in the autumn breeze.

Mike huffed, shaking his head.   _ Fucking idiot.   _ Stepping out of the car, Mike kicked away a few empty beer cans bestrewed on the lawn.  He hadn’t pictured Billie as a partying type; not the punk 22-year old that liked dogs and weed and leather jackets too big for him.  

 

But there he was, pushing past a crowd of already half-naked girls to get inside the house with a smirk at Mike, who followed suit, albeit reluctantly.  A blonde holding a half empty bottle of whiskey stopped him with a drunken giggle.

 

“Hey, Mister,” she purred, grabbing Mike’s white cotton shirt.  “I don’t see your name on the  _ list. _ ”  Each word was drawn out dramatically and slurred into the next; obviously, she’d been at the party a while.  

 

At Mike’s worried expression, the girl laughed loud enough to startle him.  “I’m kidding,” she yelled, as if it were obvious.  “Anything for a boy with arms like  _ those.”   _ Mike just grimaced, turning on his heel and entering the mansion.

 

How Billie had found this place, Mike wasn’t sure.  It was rare for Billie to gather with a crowd of more than maybe seven.  Even then it’d be in a friend’s basement, mixing pot with anything - legal or not - that they could find.  As far as Mike knew, Billie didn’t have friends with enough money to afford a fucking  _ room  _ in a mansion.  

 

It was the typical party scene.  Music blared, drunk people made out in corners, and jocks took hits of god knows what to the amusement of their friends and the annoyment of girls sober enough to know that they were idiots.  A few chairs laid destroyed, but no real damage to the house seemed to have been done.  _ Yet.  _

 

After a while, Mike had gone off to get a drink. He sure as hell needed one. He finally found an unopened bottle of beer when he ran into Billie Joe. The moment Mike laid his eyes on him, he knew something was wrong. Billie was drunk, that’s for sure, but he looked like he’d just seen a ghost. He was pale and Trembling, his eyes struggling to focus.  His black hair was matted to his forehead with sweat.  Mike frowned. When Billie noticed him, his face flashed with emotion. He looked relieved, then back to terrified.  
  
“Mike,” he said.   
  
It was loud as fuck in there, but Mike heard him. He always did. Before he could do anything, Billie’s legs gave out. Mike rushed forward and caught his friend just in time, sighing in relief when he realized that he hadn’t crashed on the floor.   
  
“C’mere,” he grunted as he lifted Billie Joe to his feet. He swung Billie’s arm over his shoulder and let the poor guy lean on him heavily.  
  
“Mike,” Billie repeated, desperation coloring his voice. “Mike, we gotta _go_.”  
  
“Are you having a panic attack?”  Mike asked, knowing his friend suffered from anxiety.   
  
“Don’t think so,” he managed to grind out, breathing heavily. “Don’t feel good.  Kinda nauseous.” 

 

Mike stared for a moment, panic flooding his senses; the lack of complete sentences, nausea, and collapsing suggested alcohol poisoning.  “How much did you drink?”  

 

“Just like…a beer.”  Billie squeezed his eyes shut as if even the last hour was fading from his mind.  “‘N some soda.”  His eyes widened suddenly in realization and fear as another conjecture struck him.  “I think I got drugged.”

  
“ _What_?” Mike demanded, fury rushing through his veins.  What the fuck? Who would fucking do that?  
  
“It’s fine, just get me out of here,” Billie begged, running a shaky hand through his hair.  
  
Mike’s concern for Billie outweighed his rage, so he half carried, half dragged his friend past the plethora of drunk teens, out of the house, and to their car. As soon as he collapsed on the seat, Billie groaned.  Huffing angrily, Mike revved the engine and drove off.   
  
After a few minutes, Billie quietly asked, “Are you mad at me?”  
  
Mike was taken aback; not only had he thought Billie was asleep, he was shocked that he thought he was mad at him. “Of course not,” he said. “I’m mad at whoever fucking drugged you.”

“Me too. Ruined a real fuckin’ good party,” Billie said, laughing weakly. Soon after, he passed out. 

~~~

Mike was kind of freaking out. I mean, what do you do when your best friend gets drugged at a party? You go to the hospital, right?  Of course, the nearest hospital was hours away.  Not to mention that Billie would kick Mike’s ass for taking him to a hospital for anything less than a laceration (even _that_ would get him at least a glare). _Fuck_. Biting his lip, he decided to bring Billie back to the motel they were staying at.  As soon as they arrived, Mike swung his legs out of the car and opened the door parallel to his own.  With a grunt and a mumbled ‘you aren’t as small as some people think,’ he lifted his friend and carried him bridal style through the parking lot and into their room.  
  
“Tré, you better not be fucking anyone in here,” Mike said with his eyes shut tight. He’d seen Tré naked a million times, but seeing Tré having sex with someone was something else. 

 

To Mike’s surprise, Tré was nowhere to be seen. He must’ve been out buying booze or something. _Hopefully it won’t be drugged_ , Mike thought.  Shaking himself from his thoughts, he brought Billie Joe across the room and layed him down on the bed.   
  
“Fuckin’ hell, Michael,” Billie mumbled, yawning and stretching his back in an arch.  
  
“Mornin’, Sleeping Beauty,” Mike said dryly.  Now that Billie was awake, Mike was confident that he’d (hopefully) stay that way until whatever was slipped into his drink was out of his system.  
  
Suddenly, Billie shot out of bed and bolted for the bathroom, nearly tripping over himself in the process.  Mike’s eyes widened at the sound of Billie retching. While he did so, Mike brought the pillows and blankets from his own bed and plopped them onto Billie’s.  As a side thought, he tossed the ice bucket to his bedside.  The gagging ceased after a few minutes and the older boy stumbled out of the bathroom, crashing face down onto his bed.   
  
“Hang on, Bill,” Mike said, grabbing some sweatpants for Billie and his favorite t-shirt, one that he stole from Mike whenever he could. He claimed it was because he liked shirts that were too big for him.    
  
“I don’t wanna move,” Billie muttered, voice muffled into the pillows.  “Everything hurts.”  
  
“Too bad,” Mike said, throwing the clothes at him. Billie removed his face from the pillows and glowered at Mike with a pout, no real venom in the glance, just annoyance.     
  
Billie lazily stripped himself of his clothes and began dressing in the ones Mike offered him, all the while staying on the bed.  Mike didn’t mind seeing Billie’s body. Much like Tré, he’d seen him naked a lot. However, Mike still felt his cheeks flushing when his eyes landed upon Billie’s bare chest.  He scolded himself silently and looked away.   
  
After he was changed, Billie curled himself up in the blankets like a cat, making Mike smile a bit. He left the room and went to the vending machine and purchased a bottle of water, and then to the ice machine for a cup of the stuff. When he got back to the room, he saw Billie Joe puking again. At least it was in the trashcan this time.   
  
“I feel like shit,” Billie said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.  
  
The poor kid was shivering now, and since Mike couldn’t do anything about the room temperature - after all, it was a shitty motel - he decided to climb into bed with Billie.  Mike proceeded to grab all pillows and blankets on the bed and create a sort of soft fortress with them for Billie to lay on. 

 

As soon as Billie felt Mike next to him, he pushed himself back until he was right up against Mike’s chest, still shivering.  Letting out a small sigh, Mike wrapped his arms around him and rubbed, trying to create some friction to heat them up.

  
“Thanks for letting me wear the shirt,” Billie murmured, rolling over so that he faced Mike.  
  
“I know you like it,” Mike replied, grinning.  He brought a gentle hand to Billie’s ebony hair, running his fingers through it and playing with his curls.  
  
“Mm,” Billie sighed happily. “Smells like you.”  
  
Mike felt himself turn bright red, but Billie didn’t seem to notice. He simply nuzzled up against Mike, and the two drifted off to sleep. 

  
                                                                                                         ~~~  
  
“‘Sup, losers!” Tré called, slamming the door behind him with his foot.  
  
With a few clinking sounds, he set the beers he had bought on the table. He opened his mouth to call out again, but the sight of his two friends in bed together shut him right up. He grinned and grabbed a drink.   
  
“That’s ok,” he said. “More booze for me.”  


~end~

**Author's Note:**

> If you read this far please please leave kudos or maybe a comment it would mean a lot thanks


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